


around from the start

by wreckingtomlinson



Series: could be immortals [1]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Human Harry, M/M, Road Trips, everyone's american, sort of ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8165209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckingtomlinson/pseuds/wreckingtomlinson
Summary: For the first hour, Louis seems fairly normal. It’s as they cross the border into Connecticut that Harry starts noticing the little quirks.Or, Harry picks up a hitchhiker who is not as he seems.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is what we call A Mess because it's unbeta'd and I'm so sleepy but here we are!
> 
> title from [wild ones](https://youtu.be/6fkCiZ9ttEA) by you me at six

_Quick-witted Hermes, welcome in all the worlds,_  
_fleet-footed son of Zeus, clever cattle-thief._  
_Hermes, kind-hearted one, unpredictable one,_  
_impetuous, scheming, fortunate, wise,_  
_shimmering rippling surface above dark depths,_  
_Hermes, familiar one, I praise and honor you._  
_Ageless Hermes, farmers and merchants and thieves_  
_pledge their faith to you; I pray to you as well._  
_Giver of fortune good and ill, grant me the good;_  
_guardian of travellers, keep me safe on my journeys;_  
_master of wit and charm, steady my stumbling tongue;_  
_messenger of gods, give me sense to understand._  
([x](http://www.templehermes.com/hermes_hearthstone.html))

~*~

~*~

Harry isn’t usually in the habit of picking up hitchhikers, but he’s also not usually in the habit of making road trips alone.

What had been planned as a bros’ road trip from Boston to Disney World with his roommates had turned into two cases of “my girlfriend wants me to spend the summer with her and her family” and one case of “I’m not really up to it.”

And, well. If they want to miss out on this magical, road trip, it’s their loss.

As it happens, Harry’s only just made it to Newton when he sees somebody on the side of the road several yards ahead. His first thought is that it’s a panhandler, but the man has no sign and appears to be well-dressed, at least moreso than most homeless people he sees. He just looks lost, is the thing. Since it’s broad daylight, Harry thinks it wouldn’t hurt to at least stop and see if the man needs directions. He signals right and pulls over, but before he can even unlock his door, the man is suddenly there next to the car, looking in. Harry rolls the window down slowly, in case this is all a big trap.

The man looks young, probably no older than mid-twenties, with hair kicked up in wisps all over his head and irises so blue they rival the cloudless sky. It’s a strange thought, but Harry thinks he looks like he’s almost glowing. Maybe it’s the sun behind him.

“Hi,” the man starts slowly, his voice light and a bit gritty-sounding. There’s a hint of an accent that Harry can’t place. It sounds a little British, but also vaguely eastern European. “Can you help me?”

“Um, sure? Are you lost?”

The man shakes his head. “No. Well, yes. It’s a really big thing to ask someone I don’t even know, but can you maybe give me a ride somewhere?”

Harry inches the window down a bit more, looking over the man carefully. To check to see if he looks like he’s hiding any weapons, of course. He can’t possibly be, not with skinny jeans that tight. “Where to?”

“The beach.”

“Well, which beach? There’s a ton.”

The man pauses, scrunching his mouth to one side. “My uncle said I’m supposed to meet him at the one with the horses.”

A beach, with horses? Harry doesn’t know much about horses, or beaches in general, for that matter. “Um,” he starts, “well, I’m on my way to Florida. So maybe we can drop you off at the beach along the way? Do you have any idea where the beach is?”

The man shrugs, bending forward to lean on the window sill like they’ve been best friends for ages. “I don’t know. Listen, this is kind of wild, but can I just come with you? I think I’ll be able to tell where I’m supposed to be when we get close. I’m not dangerous, I promise.”

Now, all of Harry’s childhood “stranger danger” education is telling him to gun it back onto the highway and leave this strange man in the dust. He’s asking to go with Harry, for who knows how long, and Harry’s just supposed to be okay with that? The thing is, the man seems harmless enough, and he’s definitely glowing now, in some capacity, and his voice is...it’s the kind of voice that could make Harry believe anything.

So he finds himself nodding, and the man is beaming like sun on the bay and saying, “Thanks so much! I won’t be a bother, I swear,” and hopping in the passenger side before Harry can even clear the seat off.

“Uh, sure, no problem,” the curly-haired boy mutters faintly as he watches the man battle with the seat belt. “Can I get your name, maybe?”

“Oh! Um, Louis. You can call me Louis.”

Louis. He says it like the French kings of old, Harry thinks as he tosses his backpack into the backseat and eases back onto the highway. Great, so he’s got a stranger—a pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless—in his passenger seat and he has no idea how they’ll be traveling together.

“What about your name?” Louis pipes up. Harry chances a glance over to him to see that Louis has already made himself very comfortable. Bare feet up on the dashboard, seat reclined, window cracked enough that the wind ruffles his hair.

“I’m Harry,” he tells his new companion.

“Harry,” Louis said thoughtfully. “That’s an old name.”

“So’s yours, the way you say it.”

Louis hums out a laugh; Harry has to stop the car because he’s hit a massive traffic jam, and he risks another, longer look over to Louis. He’s in a red and black flannel, unbuttoned over a black tank top, and the aforementioned skinny jeans. He looks a little like he could be the lead singer of a local band, or something. He also looks like he’s dressed for October rather than the end of July.

For the first hour, Louis seems fairly normal. It’s as they cross the border into Connecticut that Harry starts noticing the little quirks.

For one, Harry knows for sure that Louis is glowing, somehow. It’s more obvious as it gets darker outside; he looks like he’s coated in a sheen of gold.

Then there’s the fact that Louis hasn’t used the bathroom at any of the rest stops Harry’s made. He just promises Harry he’ll stay with the car, and sure enough, when Harry comes back out, Louis is there leaning against the side of the Honda Civic like he owns it. Unless of course Louis is just going outside, but he never appears to have moved.

Louis has also commandeered a gray beanie that Harry hadn’t realized he’d even had in the car. Harry doesn’t mind. It’s a little big on Louis, drooping to one side and occasionally crushing his hair over his eyes.

The next thing Harry notices is when they stop for dinner at a small diner somewhere in New Jersey. It’s nothing fancy, just a typical all-American roadside eatery decked out in chrome and red vinyl seats, but Louis looks around at everything like he’s stepped into a museum. He flips through the jukebox, reading every song title out loud and occasionally asking Harry who certain artists are.

“Sorry,” he apologizes after Harry explains that “China Grove” has nothing to do with the actual country of China. “My brother’s a lot better with music and musicians and stuff than I am.”

It’s the first nugget of information Louis has offered about himself in five hours. “You have a brother?” he asks.

“Mhm. Um...a lot of them,” Louis tells him. “Like, a lot. Technically they’re all half-brothers. My dad, um. Didn’t stay with my mom.”

Harry frowns. He knows what that’s like. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be!” Louis’ voice goes bright again. “My family’s a bit crazy. Tell me about yours.”

“I have a sister,” Harry starts, and he ends up telling Louis almost his entire life story. He talks about Gemma, his older sister, and his mom and stepdad back home in New Hampshire. He tells Louis all about how he ended up at the New England School of Photography after getting bored with biochemistry, and about how his friends all backed out of the roadtrip. The entire time, Louis just sits there across from him, arms crossed and resting on the table while he looks like he’s hanging on every word. His flannel has started to droop off his left shoulder, revealing sharp collarbones under his tank top.

“That sounds so nice,” Louis says finally. “College and all that. I never went.”

“No? What do you do?”

Louis coughs. “I do a bunch of stuff. Sometimes I scout for sports teams. Sometimes I’m a travel blogger. Bunch of stuff.”

“Oh! Listen, so this is probably unnecessary, but...you know, if you ever need a photographer for any of your travels…” Harry wiggles his eyebrows and Louis laughs.

“I’ll call you first,” Louis assures him, reaching across the table and patting the top of Harry’s hand. That’s another thing about him. He’s very touchy, and while Harry usually doesn’t mind, they’ve only known each other for five and a half hours and that’s not nearly enough time to be wanting to kiss someone he’s picked up as a hitchhiker.

The waitress comes by with their food then, and Harry thanks her as his grilled cheese is set down in front of him. He hadn’t listened to what his travel companion had ordered, so he looks across the table to see—a plate of grapes and cheese.

Harry swears he’s living in a film. Or a reality show of some type. He tries to ignore the way Louis’ cheeks hollow out when he pops a grape in his mouth, but he’s only human. So he stares very hard at his grilled cheese and goes silent for the rest of dinner.

“Dessert?” Louis asks ten minutes later, pushing his plate away.

“Um…” Harry plucks the dessert menu from behind the ketchup bottle. “I might have some coffee. I was gonna drive maybe two more hours and then stop, so I should get some caffeine in me. Do you want anything?”

“Wine.”

“Wine?”

Louis just stares. “Yes, wine. You’re not a wine person?”

“Not really? I’m more of a mixed drinks person.”

“My brother makes the best wine I’ve ever had. I wish I had some so you could taste it. It’s like...yeah, that’ll get you drunk real quick.”

“Your brother makes wine? Does he have a vineyard?” Louis certainly keeps interesting company, that’s for sure.

Louis shrugs. “I think he just orders grapes direct from growers, or something like that. He doesn’t have his own, I know that much. I keep telling him he should sell it, ‘cause he’d make a lot of money, but he only gives it to friends and family. Says it’s too strong to sell.”

They chat about alcohol while they sip on their dessert drinks, and Louis mainly waxes poetic about wines. Harry shares his special recipe for a White Russian.

It isn’t till after they’re back on the road that Harry realizes Louis must have paid for their dinner, because he definitely doesn’t remember taking his wallet out. So he can pay for dinner, but not a cab? Interesting. He makes a mental note to bring that up in the morning.

They stop at a Super 8 Motel just outside of Baltimore, when it’s nearing nine o’clock and Harry doesn’t want to drive any more. But before he can bring up the question of sharing a room, Louis speaks up with the fortieth strange thing he’s said all day.

“I don’t need a room,” he announces as Harry pulls into the parking lot.

Harry quirks a brow. “Then where are you going to sleep?”

“In the car.”

“You really like staying in the car, don’t you?”

Louis shrugs. “I just don’t really need the rest.”

And, okay, that’s just weird. Maybe even weirder than Louis never using the bathroom. “Louis, how do you not need the rest?”

“I’ll just sleep in the car, like I said.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of trusting you with my car…”

Louis sighs, shoulders slumping and beanie drooping lower. “Alright. Well, I can get a separate room.”

Louis cannot get a separate room. In some kind of movie scene-turned-real-life, the lady at the front desk tells him they only have one room available.

“No room in the inn,” Harry mutters as the two of them get in the elevator. “You’d think it’s Christmas Eve in Bethlehem.” Louis snorts at that. “What?”

“Funny story. You know there were inns that had rooms, and they just stopped at one at random?”

Harry pauses. “How do you know that?”

By way of an answer, Louis kicks off his ratty Vans and perches on the edge of the bed, looking at Harry like he wants to say something.

“I was thinking of getting up around seven tomorrow, getting breakfast in the lobby, and then heading out?” Harry asks after a few minutes’ pause.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Louis peels his shirts off just then, the flannel and tank top hitting the floor and—wow. He’s tan all over, still looking like he glows, collarbones sharp but stomach soft, and the dip of his spine makes Harry have to stomp on his own foot to keep from gawking. “Are you staring at me?”

“Sorry! I’m. Um. Yeah, so I guess that’s both of us in this bed?” Harry’s voice has gone up to an annoying pitch.

Louis looks at Harry like he’s sprouted another leg. “I can always sleep in the car.”

Shut up, Harry tells himself. “No, no, that’s fine.”

“Ah, good.” With that, Louis shimmies out of his jeans, leaving him in just a pair of tight black boxer-briefs, which. Harry has to stalk to the bathroom before he can deal with that.

By the time he’s out, teeth brushed and face washed, Louis is under the covers and appears to be asleep. Thank fuck. Trying not to wake the other boy, Harry strips down to boxers as silently as he can before slipping into the other side. The bed is so small he can feel Louis’ even breathing make the comforter over both of them rise and fall.

How did his lonely little Disney trip turn into this, he muses. And where is he going to drop this one off?

~

Harry’s alarm goes off at seven in the morning, but Louis isn’t there.

There’s no trace of his travel buddy anywhere in the room. It’s not like Louis had a bag or anything, but his side of the bed doesn’t even look like it’s been slept in for very long.

It’s a bit silly to feel sad, but Harry feels like yesterday, as strange as it was, had been something of a bonding experience for him and Louis. Maybe Louis fucked off to hitchhike with someone else.

Logically, Harry should be happy. He doesn’t have to drive with someone he barely knows and he doesn’t have to worry whether Louis is secretly some kind of serial killer or larcenist. But the prospect of facing the long drive to Disney by himself is a bit sad now.

So he packs his backpack, heads downstairs for some scrambled eggs and a bagel, and tries to remember where he parked his car.

After pulling up the map on his phone, he plops into the front seat, taking a few minutes to readjust his mirrors.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Fucking shit!” Harry exclaims. “What the— _Louis_?”

Louis is lounging in the passenger seat like he’s been there all night, one foot up on the dashboard and beanie pulled down to nearly cover his left eye. “Morning, Harry.”

“Where have you _been_? I thought you...I don’t know, I thought you went to to go hitchhike with someone else.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “No one else is going to be as interesting. Now. How far is it to Florida?”

Harry plugs the auxiliary cord into his phone and lets Fleetwood Mac drift through the speakers for the first hour of the ride. Louis is a fidgety mess next to him—one minute he has his feet up on the dash with his arm resting out the window, the next he has his entire upper body hanging outside like a golden retriever. He doesn’t sit still for a moment, and he still glows. Harry isn’t sure what to make of him.

“Tell me more about your brothers,” Harry asks a half hour later. “I mean, if you don’t mind talking about them. I know your dad’s, like…” He trails off, unsure if he’s hitting any sensitive memories.

“My brothers. I’ve got sisters, too. A bunch. So, I told you about the one that makes wine, and the one that’s good with music. One of my sisters is a hunter. Mostly for sport—she sells what she hunts, and she doesn’t go after any endangered species. So like, no big game hunting in Africa. Um, I have a brother who’s a judo instructor, another who’s an engineer, and then a sister who’s a university professor. And yeah, that’s my family. I have some other half-siblings, but I don’t know them all too well,” Louis finishes with a shrug.

“Are they older or younger? Actually, wait, how old are you?”

“They’re older.” Then Louis doesn’t say anything for so long that Harry isn’t sure if he’s even heard the question. Which is funny, because that’s not usually a question that people balk at. Maybe Louis’ secretly a hundred and is aging in reverse like Benjamin Button, or something. Or maybe he’s actually sixteen and just looks twenty-five. Or maybe—

“I don’t know.”

Of all the answers Harry’s been imagining, that’s not one of them. “You don’t know?” he repeats incredulously, casting a look at the boy sprawled out in his passenger seat.

Louis just shrugs again. “Don’t know. Maybe like, three thousand?”

It must be a joke. Harry tries for a laugh. “Yeah, well, you look good for three thousand.”

“Why, thank you,” Louis says, sounding genuinely pleased with Harry’s joke. “I like to think I do.”

Harry just stares at the highway ahead and furrows his brows, his mind starting to put together pieces he hasn’t even realized were on the table yet. He’ll have to call Liam about this later, but for now, he’ll just drive.

“I think we’re getting close.” Louis breaks the silence after another few minutes. “I can feel it.”

“Um, okay, do you want to call your uncle or something and get the name of the beach?”

Louis shakes his head. “He doesn’t have a phone. I’ll just know, I promise, and I’ll tell you where to go.”

The more vague Louis is, the more Harry hopes he’s not driving into a trap.

The traffic around Washington, DC is horrendous, and it results in them sitting in jams for the better part of the morning. It’s nearly noon when they’ve finally skirted around the city and Louis announces that he’d like to stop for lunch.

Finally, he says something sensible. They end up at a Starbucks so Harry can get some coffee for the road and Louis can get a little plastic container of fruit and cheese, since he doesn’t seem to eat much else.

“Coming up! Take 28A. You’ll merge onto I-64 East.”

Harry’s never driven this way but when he zooms out on his map, he has an idea of where they’re going. “Chincoteague Island? That’s where you’re meeting your uncle?”

“Yes! That! With the horses!” Louis crows. “This is the time of year they swim to the mainland. Something like that. My uncle’s really good with horses.”

Harry stores that information away. He thinks he knows now.

The maps says it should take them four hours, but it takes them three. There’s surprisingly little traffic and Harry doesn’t think he drives fast but he must, for them to get there an hour early.

Louis keeps poking his head out the window, sniffing a few times, and then sitting back down. Harry’s about to ask what he’s doing when suddenly Louis announces that he can smell the sea. Harry can’t smell a thing, but that’s probably because he’s keeping his head inside the car.

The closer they get to the island, the more Harry realizes that he’s a bit sad that their trip has come to an end so quickly. There was a small part of him, way in the back of his mind, that thought louis might end up staying with him the whole way, going to Disney World with him, and maybe even driving back once the week was over. It’s barely been 24 hours and already Louis is leaving, just as abruptly as they’d met. Harry tries to drive slower, but they still arrive an hour before the estimated arrival time shown on his phone.

All too soon, Harry’s parking in a lot for the protected beaches. “This is it,” Louis keeps insisting, before finally unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out. Harry follows him, and immediately the smell of the salt water hits his nostrils. It’s sharp, and a bit windy, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind as he jogs toward the water. There are little wings drawn on the outsides of his shoes, Harry notices.

He loses Louis for a moment, but when he finally catches up, the boy is sitting cross-legged on top of a sand dune. There’s a sign a few feet behind him reading “DO NOT CLIMB ON DUNES.”

“Um, Louis? I don’t think you’re supposed to be on the dunes,” Harry says dumbly.

Louis grins and flicks his hand dismissively. “They won’t see me. Come on up. I promise we won’t get in trouble.”

His voice has taken on the same quality it had back when he was convincing Harry to give him a lift. Harry climbs up the dune on all fours and sits next to Louis, watching the waves roll into shore and listening to the occasional squawk of seagulls above their heads.

“I’ve never been here before,” Louis says. “For all the years I’ve been alive. I’ve never really stopped here.”

There he goes again. Harry doesn’t acknowledge it. “Well, now you can say you have.”

“Wish it hadn’t taken me so long. What do you want to do in your life?”

If that’s not a loaded question. Harry gives a small shrug. “Dunno. Be happy. Make other people happy. Visit nice places like this, and take pictures.” Speaking of, he should have brought his camera. The scenery is beautiful, and part of him wants to take a picture of Louis like this—in profile, eyes bright blue and soft, hair whipping about in the breeze. The waves have gotten louder, crashing into the sand with more force.

Louis smiles then, but it’s not the sharp, slightly mischievous smile Harry’s gotten used to. It’s small and looks a bit like Louis regrets something. “I should go,” is what he says. “My uncle’s waiting.”

“Where is he?”

Louis makes a vague hand motion toward the shore. “Down there somewhere. I’ll find him. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m just going to leave you here?” It isn’t meant to come out quite the way it sounds, but it’s too late to take it back.

A little smirk curls at Louis’ lips. He's glowing brighter than Harry's ever seen. “I’ll be fine,” he assures Harry. The next thing Harry knows, there’s the warm press of lips to his cheek, and then Louis is gone. It’s like he’s disappeared completely: there are no tracks leading off the dune, and he’s nowhere to be seen. Not even his profile walking away. Now Harry really wishes he’d taken a picture. This whole thing has to be a dream, he thinks as he hears a faint roll of thunder in the distance.

When he gets back to the car, he finds a pair of dice on the seat sitting on top of a folded index card. Harry picks up the dice first, turning them this way and that. Instead of pips, they have what look like tiny gold—wings?

When he unfolds the card, there’s just a few lines of writing, scrawled in sharply connected letters.

 

_Harry —_

_Thank you for the ride. I left you some dice as a gift. If you ever feel in need of luck, roll them. It doesn’t matter what comes up. I’ll be there._

_– Louis_

 

If Harry needs luck, Louis will be there? It must be some sort of payback for Harry giving him a ride, or something. Harry pockets the dice and drives away, but not before he notices a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye.

 

When he gets to Disney and unpacks the car, he notices that his gray beanie is missing.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the wonderful people who brought the novena back! this was fun to write and I am definitely planning on more parts to this...I love the idea of Louis as Hermes and there's just so much fun to be had with it. love you and thank you for reading! x
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://maybetheyrefireproof.tumblr.com)


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